


The Sweet Revenge

by TheKats



Series: Prompted Oneshots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Originally it was supposed to be Mycake, Other, but the prompt just tempted me into /minor/ johnlock somehow, hmm, shrugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKats/pseuds/TheKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is angry at his brother. And this time, annoyingly ignoring him won't do. He's going to act on it. Revenge... is something served around a specific time, or something. He deleted the saying, anyway.<br/>He decides to use his brother's weakness against him. He's going to bake a cake... loaded with calories. The sweetest, yummiest cake his brother has ever encountered. So good he's not gonna be able to stop himself from eating all of it. Ha! Then he can feast on snarky comments about his weight. Yes, that will annoy him for a whole week, at least.<br/>Perfect.<br/>One problem. Sherlock has no idea how to bake, let alone something good.<br/>Well, John is always talking about getting him to eat home-cooked meals, surely the man can spare a few minutes and help him with his new project.<br/>Little did they know that John would enjoy making Sherlock discover sweet things. How could the great detective never decide to investigate chocolate, or candy? Maybe that's why he doesn't eat properly. He's never really found something he likes!<br/>... Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweet Revenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Midonyah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midonyah/gifts).



> Bonus points for:  
> \- John has a ridiculous apron stocked somewhere and manages to make Sherlock wear it. Something like "kiss the cook", or "Hot stuff coming through"  
> \- Sherlock having a near-orgasm-expression discovering the taste of something, and John having to focus on something else. Something less sexy.  
> \- Mycroft ending up actually eating the whole cake.  
> \- The fic taking place around November so John can look forward to getting Sherlock an advent calendar and enjoy that sexy moan once a day  
> \- Ms Hudson receiving a whole box of biscuits as a "thank you" for all the ones she brought them that never got eaten.

Angrily, Sherlock stared at his brother's back as the man left his flat. The first interesting case in _months_ and he was personally banned from investigating, just because of some governmental business.  
As if they'd be able to solve it themselves – their only chance was Mycroft and Mycroft was a lazy sod! A stupid lazy sod stealing Sherlock's only amusement in ages.

He'd pay for this. He'd regret the day he sent Sherlock back into boredom!

This wasn't a question of ignoring Mycroft any more, no, this was beyond. Ignoring wouldn't do. This asked for revenge with heavy artillery.  
This asked for cake!

And what a cake it would be. It would be so heavy, so fat, bursting with calories, and so delicious, Mycroft would be struggling against comments and trousers for _years_!

Just as soon as Sherlock figured out how t bake such a cake. He searched for recipes online, but none of them got close to what he had in mind. 500 calories? Oh, don't be funny.

There was but one way to get this to work out as imagined and that way, as it so often was, was John. But John wouldn't just help him give his brother a heart attack without very good reason.

He'd have to push a few buttons here and there.

He'd have to push the sulk-button.  
  
And he did. For days, even weeks, Sherlock camped on the sofa. He didn't eat more than maybe a slice of bread that John managed to forced down his throat when Sherlock was having a weak moment, washed down with a glass of water, protesting with growls and snarls all the time. He didn't even shower, which made John's attempts to get nutrition into his body quite heroic, considering he had to grasp Sherlock's greasy curls to pull his head back and make him more receptive. Don't ask about using the toilet. There were John's working hours and they had to suffice for that.

After three weeks, the brave soldier gave up. Sherlock had told him the reason for his sulk the first day and now John had had enough. He could take no more snapping and snarling and groaning and growling, no more of the depressing atmosphere of their flat, no more stink and greasy hair on their sofa, no more deep grey rings under pale eyes, no more prodding at ribs when he was asleep to check just how badly Sherlock was doing. It was a particularly pitiful whine over an aching stomach that had John snap. “Okay, seriously, this is ridiculous! I'm going to kill your brother with my bare hands for putting me in this situation!”

 

Sherlock grinned, _finally_ John acknowledged their common enemy. “Right, okay. I have browsed the internet for any recipe that has a sinful lot of calories. Unfortunately all serious websites only show those still with a low count – the whole dieting business, you know, I don't get why people don't just stop eating these things if they don't want to gain from them – but then I found this!” he rushed through the words, shoving his laptop onto John's thighs, with a recipe open.

 

John stared at it in a mixture of horror and awe. “That... is a right _bomb_. Christ, Sherlock, you're not actually planning to do this, are you?”

 

“Of course I am not! You are. I already ordered all the ingredients, but it's your job to melt the chocolate and everything so it is _flawless_ , I don't want a single little lump left in anything you melted for this cake – the taste has to be even in every single bite.”

Sherlock could see the alarm bells ring in John's mind at the seriousness in the younger man's face and voice.

 

The doctor swallowed around a single little lump in his own throat now. “I haven't baked in years – hell, I'm not even sure this can be considered baking.. Can I have a few practice rounds just to see if I can do it as perfectly as you ask of me before you rip my head off?”

 

Sherlock beamed at John's compliance. “Yes, but don't take too long, I want my revenge soon!”

 

  
And so, John spent the upcoming days baking small cakes of all kinds, often covered with melted chocolate, just to figure out how to melt it best without leaving any lumps and still not burning anything. Of course, for Sherlock to tell him what was good and what wasn't, he had to taste them.

 

“Here you go... taste one, please.” John had said when he emerged the kitchen with a plate of fresh brownies, his very first baked treat in this project.

 

Sherlock had narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose at them, not because they smelled bad, but because they smelled _delicious_. He'd never had brownies before. In fact, he hadn't had any sort of treat since he was a little child, simply because none of them were to his liking. Carefully, he reached for a small piece of the fluffy chocolaty treats. One last uncertain glance to John and he bit into it.

The warm, liquid chocolate covered and stuck to his upper lip, while his taste buds exploded with the taste of the semi-sticky mass of brownie. He slowly chewed on the sweetness filling his mouth, savouring the taste of this never-discovered treat. Once his mouth was empty, the bite of brownie chewed, Sherlock pushed in the rest of it greedily, smearing more chocolate on his lips as he lost himself to the heavenly experience of having eaten a brownie.  
His adventure ended when he licked his lips, trying to get more sweetness into his mouth and looked up, meeting John's confused yet clearly amused gaze mid-lick.  
He quickly pulled his tongue back in, bobbing his head in something like a nod. “Good. They are... good.”

 

“Want another?”

 

“Yes.” Sherlock answered instantly snatching for another piece. Just when he had the brownie lifted to his lips, he looked up at John's unchanged expression, staring back wordlessly for a while.

 

“Don't tell me you've never eaten brownies before.” John said eventually, disbelieving.

 

“No.” Sherlock replied sheepishly.

 

The older man sighed at that, unable to wrap his head around that fact. He set the plate down on the table in front of the sofa and crossed his arms. “All right. What else have you been missing out on?”

 

The detective shrugged. “Basically everything. I didn't like any sweets, baked or else, as a child, so I haven't eaten any since then..”

 

“Right, we're gonna change that!”

 

 

“Here, wear this.”

 

Sherlock frowned as he took and looked at the apron John had just shoved in his hands. He regarded the garment with mild disgust – while it might be an interesting motive on John, it definitely wouldn't do on Sherlock. There was a muscular, shirtless man, a scratch on his chest and a few more on his belly. And he was wearing camouflage pants, dog tags and two belts hanging from his shoulders, equipped with ammunition and two grenades. He threw John a look. “Why.”

 

“What? As I know you, you're only going to get everything all over you and you won't want to ruin your expensive clothes, would you?”

 

“Give me some of your clothes then, they are dispensable!”

 

“They wouldn't fit you.”

 

“Why this one?!”  
  
“It's the only one I have. It was a joke-present from shortly before I joined the army.”

 

“You wear it!”

 

“I don't need it. I don't get myself dirty and anyway, 'my clothes are dispensable'.” That grin. That cheeky little grin that made John look both adorable and utterly sexy. Sherlock wanted to punch him. Or eat him whole, he hadn't quite decided yet.

 

He put the apron on, not really sure why, but it made John happy, if the little giggles whenever he looked at him were anything to go by.

 

After three batches of brownies, German cinnamon stars and some mince pies in the last week, John had convinced Sherlock to join him in baking some biscuits. Really, it was lucky Sherlock's revenge plan took place in the winter months because this close to Christmas, John had another excuse for baking so often. Sherlock seemed like he wouldn't have complained anyway – he happily ate and ate what John made; he liked these goods after all, it would seem. The doctor was quite happy to finally see Sherlock develop a healthy appetite and to gain back the pounds he'd lost during his last sulk.

They ended up baking two batches of biscuits, either of them responsible for one. They took half off each batch and John brought them downstairs, handing them to Mrs. Hudson in both gratitude and apology for the many times she'd brought them some, which were often left untouched by Sherlock and, during cases, also by John. The elder lady practically sparkled with joy and managed to trap John in one of her stories – one of those John did not really want to listen to, actually. Luckily, he could excuse himself with having to look after Sherlock and his batch after a while – not that they were still in the oven, but she didn't need know that, right?

Coming back up, he saw Sherlock regarding him innocently, more than half of the biscuits gone and still wearing the apron. With his finger John scooped up a splash of dough, licking it off with with a steady look into Sherlock's eyes and a grin that said a thousand things.

 

 

“So!” John huffed. “The big day?”

 

“The big cake!” Sherlock beamed at him, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

 

Now that they had fused to make a great team, they were set to make _the cake_. And a small extra for them to have a taste of as well.

Sherlock handed John a cup worth of two big spoons of Nutella, about half the amount of peanut butter and a lot Hershey's chocolate – one of the things Sherlock had ordered online to be imported from America. The 'recipe' was from a casual website posting things from all over the world, so he just went for the original stuff. While the mixture melted, John took one of the remaining chocolates and popped it into Sherlock's mouth receiving a small moan at the deliciousness of it and a kiss in thanks.

They proceeded with John grinding some biscuits with his fist and Sherlock readying the cream of melted wonders so they could mix them together in a bowl before filling that mass into a cake pan. There Sherlock placed Snickers at the edge, while John went on and melted caramel bars to pour them inside the Snickers ring and for Sherlock to place Caramilk cubes in the sticky pool whilst John melted marshmallows, who followed to cover the whole thing up. Then they added all sorts of stuff, like cream filled Christmas chocolates, Smarties, more Snickers, more Caramilk. Meanwhile John melted some chocolate fudge, which Sherlock smeared on top of it, followed by melted Lindt bars.

Then they let it all cool out before flipping it around.   
According to the internet, they now had about 20000 calories worth of cake in front of them and e smaller version next to it. While John had proceeded to feed Sherlock some of the sweets during the baking, the real treat was to be tasted now and Sherlock dove right in.  
The first bite was taken and John had forgotten all about the cake when Sherlock's eyes rolled back, his eyebrows furrowed and he let out a deep moan as he threw his head backwards. John's mouth went dry and he quickly busied himself with retrieving the whipped cream from the fridge to decorate the big cake, adding some sprinkles as he saw Sherlock had taken to eating the whole smaller thing and was making more.. noises.

 

 

This afternoon, Anthea entered his office with a rather large box, wrapped with a little bow and a card attached to it, reading: 'Thank you for taking me off that case. The free time has given me the chance to explore some new interests of mine. I enjoyed this one in particular and thought you might, too. -SH'

Mycroft frowned when he opened the box.

He also frowned when he looked down at his empty plate, rubbing his stuffed stomach with little, painful whines. The taste still stimulating the buds on his tongue, he allowed himself a _minor_ break to digest a little, leaning back in his chair and recalling all he had tasted, putting together the recipe. He revelled in the bliss better than any other earthly pleasure, giving little moans when it seemed almost like he could taste it all over again.

  
He hadn't tasted anything of the sort until today, but he would taste it again in the future, a lot.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A second prompt by my dear Midonyah :3 This is not as I expected it to be. Probably also not as you expected it to be... I like it nonetheless ^^ Hope you're happy with it, too :)
> 
> The "recipe": http://de.webfail.com/bc0772935eb  
> The apron: http://i01.i.aliimg.com/photo/v0/1583028325_2/2014_New_design_apron_sexy_girl_soldier.jpg
> 
> Any criticism, spelling mistakes or prompts: Comment :3


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